A Second Shot
by 321girl
Summary: It's been over 10 years since the greatest team London has ever known separated. William Holmes has heard whispers about his father's legendary partner, but Sherlock has stayed adamantly silent. Now, when a shadow follows William, the past is dug up, and Sherlock must face the fateful day when John Watson walked out of his life.
1. Chapter 1

Amelia skittered to a stop at the end of the darkened alleyway. Her piercing sapphire eyes flickered around, categorizing every aspect of her surroundings. No escape. She whirled around to face the assailant casually stalking her, the streetlight behind him painting him into nothing more than an ominous silhouette. She heard the click of his gun as he took aim.

First, the sound of shattering glass to her right. Then, two shots rang out into the still Swedish air. And then Amelia felt a heavy weight topple onto her. She fell to the ground, feeling glass shards embed into her arm. Her head cracked on the cement and a burning light exploded across her vision as she struggled to stay conscious. The coppery scent of blood filled her nostrils and she felt a burst of panic as she struggled into a sitting position, supporting the man who had tackled her, saving her from that bullet. "Oh my god, dad. Are you okay?" she cried.

John Watson grimaced at her, pressing a hand to the bullet wound in his stomach, blood pooling around his fingers.

A strange sense of foreboding overcame Amelia and, acting on instinct, she wrenched the handgun from her father and fired a single shot at the roof of the building overlooking the alleyway. She couldn't have known, but she did, that she had just delivered a death shot to the sniper on the building.

She knelt down in front of John, pulling his hand aside to get a better look at the wound. It was bad. She swallowed once and her medical training kicked in. "We need to get you to a hospital," she said, tearing off her jacket to staunch the flow of blood. Her father gripped her wrist. "No."

Amelia met her father's eyes, confused. John smiled grimly. "There are others, the entire Black Cobra knows about us. There's no where on heaven or earth that we'll be safe now."

Amelia ground her teeth together. "So what. You're just going to die?" She whispered furiously, blinking the tears away. John winked, "I'm going to pull a Sherlock."

_'Have a told you about how Sherlock died and came back to life?' John asked his eight year old daughter. 'No! How'd he do that?' Amelia exclaimed, 'And why did he do that?' She asked after a moment's pause. _

_'Asking all the right questions' John laughed. 'You're so clever, just like your mother.' He looked impossibly devastated for a moment. Amelia curled closer into him, breathing in the smell of her father's jumper. She tried to will all her childish happiness into him. She never told him, because it would make him sad, but she was starting to forget things about her mother, her face, her laugh, her hands. Her mother was starting to become a stranger to her. But John, John was real. He was the one who told her stories about her mother and his best friend, the only consulting detective in the world. The one who took her to the playground and made sure she always had dessert in her lunch bag. The one who always whispered 'I love you' to her when he tucked her in at night. _

_In a tale interwoven with danger and angst, John told little Amelia Watson about the evil Moriarty, how Sherlock faked his death so he could dismantle Moriarty's network and save John, Ms. Hudson and Lestrade. She listened, enraptured, but all too soon began to yawn. John laughed and gently carried Amelia to her bed. 'Dad," mumbled Amelia, 'Where is Sherlock now? Are you still friends?' In her hazy state she missed his answer and promptly forgot about it the next morning. _

Two minutes later, the sound of a rattling shopping cart echoed in the alleyway. Amelia aimed the gun towards the noise, but her father motioned her to relax. Jason, one of the men who were a part of her father's homeless network, trundled into view, pushing a shopping cart with a large black garbage bag in it. John shifted uncomfortably.

"After we killed the leader of the Black Cobra five months ago, the rest of the gang was able to figure out who we were. We've almost gotten killed twenty seven times since then." He growled. Amelia scoffed, "I hardly think the bomb in the car could count as 'almost gotten killed'" she said lightly, "Too cliché and easy to detect." John smiled in amusement.

"Even so, life has gotten too dangerous." John's voice softened "Especially for you, you're almost seventeen. You should be focusing on getting into medical school, not worrying constantly about surviving to see the next day."

"Mundane." Amelia interrupted, as Dave unloaded his cargo. John raised an eyebrow as he continued. "So I've been scrambling to figure out how to "kill ourselves." The bullet wound is inconvenient, but this is what we're going to do…"

Amelia curled into her father like a young child, committing everything to memory: his steady hands, gripping hers tightly, the smell of tea and his aftershave, his warm red-rimmed navy eyes. "I have to leave now." Amelia closed her eyes and shook her head, curling deeper into him. The last few days had past in a blur. Crying over the fake body of her father, attending his funeral, learning that he might as well be dead to her.

_'I'm going to hunt them all down.' John whispered. _

_'And I can't come with you.' Amelia realized. _

_John shook his head. 'Too dangerous, and I won't be able to have any contact with you.' _

_'But you need me,' Amelia cried, 'No one can watch your back like I can! What happens if, if you die?' _

_'Oh my little solider, I can't put you in that sort of danger. And,' John drew in a shuddering breath. 'You have to know that if I die, and I won't lie there is a huge chance I will, you'll never know. I'm going undercover, just as you are. To everyone, John Watson is already dead. Don't spend your life waiting for me.' And with that, Amelia broke down, sobbing into her father's jumper, clinging onto him like she would never et go. She cried and cried, her father tightening his grip on her whispering 'I love you. I'm so sorry' over and over again. _

John pulled away from his daughter. He stroked her face once and stood up, trying to hide the fact that his heart was shattering. Would he ever get to walk her down the aisle at her wedding? Ever get to hold his grandchildren and tell them stories about how Amelia was a crack shot at the age of fourteen? What he wouldn't give to have her by his side. But he knew that this journey would be saturated with violence and he was so worried about how that could affect his daughter. Her addiction to danger and apathetic attitude towards the torturing and death of those who threatened the ones she loved was frightening at times, but her compassion and loyalty was boundless, and he didn't want her to lose that.

Amelia stood up stiffly and embraced her father once more before meeting his eyes and saluting stiffly. "Goodbye, dad."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not my characters blah blah blah

Enjoy!

* * *

3 years later...

Amelia stared at the papers. Lucy Abbington. She traced her finger over the birth certificate, school documents and passport. Sophie had done well fabricating an entire life for her. She sighed and stood up from the dusty kitchen table. Striding over to the bathroom, she stared at the stranger in the bathroom mirror. She had grown out her boyish pixie cut and dyed her feathery blonde hair a rich chestnut brown. With the intense green eyes and heavy makeup she could see nothing of her parents in her face. She hated it. She pulled out the contacts and gazed at her father's navy blue eyes. God, even after three years it still hurt. Straightening her shoulders, she put on a stoic face, _Watsons are good at coping_ she chastised herself, and allowed herself a small flicker of excitement. First day of high school tomorrow she thought, and if all goes well, med school in a year.

William winced at his friend Daniel as they hurried to class. "She slapped you? A bit dramatic don't you think?" Daniel huffed.

William groaned, "It's not like I was cheating on her. At least I was gentlemanly enough to break up with her when she ceased to interest me. Honestly, is it my fault she became so boring?"

"I really hope you didn't say those exact words to her, mate"

"Of course not," William scowled. "I have more social tact than that."

"Hey, at least she lasted a bit longer than the others. Two whole months!"

William glared woefully at his friend, "and that was only because mother insisted on a family vacation to Greece and father insisted on dropping by Sweden, for what reason I don't know. But he was certainly irritable about it for weeks afterwards."

"Had to investigate something for your all powerful uncle?"

"I deduced it was more of a personal affair."

"You and your deducing, come on! We're going to be late for bio." Daniel laughed, dashing down the hallway. "At least we're guaranteed a seat though."

That said seat was taken by a beautiful brunette. Daniel whistled under his breath, "New girl. I get dibs, Will, after all you just broke up with Claire" William rolled his eyes; the girl would end up boring him after a month anyways, and nodded his assent. "But I'm still going to demand my seat back, " he grinned wolfishly. Daniel scowled "Don't scare my future girlfriend away."

Amelia doodled on the cover of her notebook. Damn, the lung dimension was a bit off. She gazed outside as she contemplated her character. Lucy Abbington, the exceptionally smart yet socially awkward foreign girl. A tiny part of her was terrified she'd slip up, but the majority of her reveled in the thrill of keeping up a disguise. Adrenaline junkie, just like her dad. She knew she had the exceptional ability of being able to take on different personas; even her parents weren't able to recognize her when she didn't want them too. She knew she didn't have a single tell when lying and just recently...she had learned just how deadly she could be. "Excuse me, I know you're new here, but unfortunately you're in my seat" Amelia looked up to be confronted by the spitting image of her father's former best friend, Sherlock Holmes.

William looked at the girl. Hunched shoulders, tapping foot, staring out the window to avoid eye contact, typical insecure new girl. Cheap notebook, standard civilian clothes, middle class and unoriginal. Yet the drawing bespoke intelligence, the detail was astounding and everything as perfect, down to the scaling, except for the lung, but he was willing to forgive that. Her eyes widened a fraction when she looked at him and he lowered his voice. "Obviously intelligent, likely you want to attend med school, but shy and socially inept, so the best thing would be for you to sit up front so the teacher will notice you without you having to make the painful effort of showcasing your brilliance" he purred. The girl nodded quickly and almost tumbled out of her seat in her haste to move. "Hey, let me help you." Daniel offered, winking seductively. "I'm Daniel, and this is my friend, William." The girl stared at the ground, and breathed "Lucy". Daniel carried her stuff to the front of the room, chatting away as she followed, docile as a lamb.

Daniel plopped down next to William. "Beautiful and inexperienced, my favourite," he laughed, "What'd you deduce about her, Will?" William rolled his eyes and rattled off his string of deductions. The girl was obviously living alone, missed her parents, passionate about medicine, hoping for a surgical position where human interaction would be minimal. She was exceptionally book-smart, but terrified of the world, probably coddled by her parents as a child. "All in all, nothing extraordinary about her," William concluded.

Amelia touched her hidden earpiece, and letting her hair fall in a curtain fall around her, smiled victoriously. It had been too easy to bug Daniel. She would have to stumble into him to retrieve it before he went home, but it was worth it.

She had fooled a Holmes.


End file.
